


Five Times We Hid In Plain Sight (and that one time we got caught)

by OpaqueXApathy



Category: Fury (2014)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Male Slash, Mentions of homophobia, War, World War II, hiding a relationship in plain sight, homophobic time period, seriously been staring at the screen for like twenty minutes, so awefully bad at tags, war can be graphic (I'm sorry I'm such a descriptive writer), yep I did the 'number of things' and 'that one thing that wasn't' story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:36:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3071759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpaqueXApathy/pseuds/OpaqueXApathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don and Boyd are used to hiding their relationship in the open, surrounded by the whole army or by the crew of Fury. They're careful, they don't make mistakes, and no one even thinks to call them out on anything. Except for that one time in which all their carefully nonchalant behavior around each other wavers, someone looks hard enough, and they're found out. This is five times before then in which they weren't and how they handled it when they were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bone Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Short simple notes. I have two computers. One died. And then the other died. One computer lives and I am very sorry for all and any updates (especially the one in this fandom) that have yet to be completed. I'm working on that. But here's this. And expect more because the movie came out early digitally and I'm all swept up in the feels again. *throws up hands* I also didn't realize they called Don 'Top' at least twenty times in the movie. I miss so much in a theater and then I get all quiet and cozy and watch it one on one when it comes out on DVD and find all the details I missed. If you don't know what Top means, it's a very old military term meaning the 'top ranking commander' or the person in charge. It's kind of affectionate when you really don't want to get personal. Or if you're mad at them and you want to yell at them without getting personal about it. Whichever the situation fits. And lastly, as always, comments are loved and adored. <3

 

**Bone Deep**

Boyd Swan wasn’t actually sure what woke him up. Whether it was the boot to his ribs or the chattering teeth of his commander or both equally he couldn’t take a guess. But suddenly he was awake, blearily looking around at his surroundings as he came back to himself, arms crossed over his chest tightly. He’d been trying to sleep. It wasn’t like the war let them do that much and the nights in this part of Africa were getting bitterly cold. They say that’s what happened in a desert and they hadn’t been lying.

He got an answer to what had woken him as a hand roughly fell onto his shoulder. Boyd was coming to recognize the rough touch of Grady, as brash as the rest of the man. Whether he was thumped on the leg during loading or firing, whacked in the arm to get his attention or just to get a rise out of him, or that one time they’d all out brawled and come to fists after Grady had had too much to drink and Bible had just had it.

“Top’s freezing ‘is ass off. That’s all. Go back to sleep.”

As if he could leave it at that.

And if Wardaddy had woken him up that didn’t explain the boot to his ribs. But Bible, the nickname had stuck and he didn’t actually mind it none, was immediately looking to their tank commander in concern. And Grady was apparently right in his assessment of the man. The newly minted sergeant hadn’t had the best of days and by the look of him it showed. He was curled up around himself on their sad excuse for bedrolls, practically in a fetal position, and the shivers wracking his body were forceful. His teeth were chattering loudly and occasionally his legs would twitch, like the spasms of his body or the loudness of his teeth chattering were coming near to waking him up, even through his own exhaustion, but not just.

It _was_ cold.

Boyd was naturally hot blooded, being properly raised in the South as he had been, but it was only a small advantage out here compared to everyone else. One he was grateful for make no mistake. Gordo seemed to be the same, the Fury’s tank driver in question eyeing their commander worriedly from where he was sitting, wide awake - arms crossed over his chest and feet stretched out in front of him. He turned that worried gaze to Bible, questioningly and Bible realized Grady was looking at him the same way. They were looking at him to fix it, fix their commander. And he realized they did that a lot. About everything.

But he didn’t mind that none either.

It was his habit to do so anyway and his mind was already turning, standing a bit cautiously with a wince. The war was enough to make anyone feel old, his bones were protesting to the ache, to the cramped confines of the Fury. Wardaddy had said it would get better and maybe it would. He hoped so. He could only imagine what the sergeant suffered through. He was older than all of them but it barely showed. He had a surprising youth about him and sometimes they forgot.

Like today. Their first time out as a crew had been weeks ago now and that first battle had been a baptism for them all in many ways. But Don hadn’t held on nearly so well and he’d had an embarrassing accident to say the least. Nobody blamed him, it happened, Grady cracked jokes and everyone but Bible had had a laugh at his expense. He couldn’t bear to laugh at man’s suffering though that was frequently what men did.

But the whole affair in the end, it had made Wardaddy human. Relatable. He was scared just like them. He was new at all this too. He was just doing the best he could. Just like them.

And his best was pretty damn good. There was a making of a great commander already underway within that man. Best than most of the commanders around and they knew that. Bible could see it there, he already trusted the sergeant with his life, they all did. They trusted in that. And it was making them trust in each other.

Today, a battle over a bridge had gone south and they’d had to take the fight across the river all the while fending off too many Nazi soldiers to count. While under heavy fire, they’d had to take Fury into the water, nearly up past her treads. Nothing she couldn’t handle but add the anti-tank fire, the bullets, and the chaos and mistakes had happened. Fury had stalled, they’d nearly drowned, and though Gordo had almost gotten them killed - his own raw talent had pulled them through under Don’s swift direction. It had been close but they’d pulled through.

And Don hadn’t shit himself this time. There was that. None of them had. Which was increasingly becoming a big achievement out here. They were getting better. They were forging into a unit, something solid. One baptism by fire after another.

But Don had been left rattled. He wasn’t exactly an anxious man, it wasn’t that exactly. Bible wasn’t sure what it was. But he was gradually hiding more and more from them and becoming more stoic about his own fears. It was necessary, Bible knew this grimly. He had a position of authority and an image to maintain for them. To be a pillar of strength and security that they could rely upon. And he was already doing damn decent. But it was already exacting a cost too.

And Boyd just got this urge to get closer to him. He didn’t want to be outside those walls when they closed. He didn’t want to be held at that distance like the rest of the crew would eventually have to be. It bothered him deeply that Don should have to endure alone because of his position of authority. It didn’t settle right. That Don should give so much and they’d rely upon him for just as much as he gave and more, which was turning out to be all Don had and then some, and the man himself couldn’t receive the same support.

Wardaddy was living up to his name, slowly but surely, but Boyd was worried the tank commander he could become would be built up on cracks and fault lines if he continued the way he was. He needed something. Bible didn’t know what yet but he felt like it was him. Someone to fill those cracks. Someone to get closer instead of further away.

Like right now.

And he didn’t know why he felt like it was to be him to do so but the rest of the team seemed to agree. Because they always gave them those looks when it looked like Don might need something he naturally, as their commander, wouldn’t let them anywhere near to give. And those moments were becoming much fewer and farther between.

“You think he needs a medic?” Gordo asked, his voice barely pitched quiet.

Don was a ridiculously heavy sleeper. But when he was needed, he was up faster than Bible could rationalize. He knew that as hard as he was sleeping now, if he nudged him and said his name urgently that the man would be up in a split second and no more.

“Maybe.” Bible reluctantly agreed, already moving around to where Don lay, reaching out a gloved hand towards the exhausted sergeant. But something stopped him at the last second. If they woke him now, chances were he’d suffer through the cold alone, say no more about it, offer to take watch. He’d avoid it. And he certainly wouldn’t get any rest.

Making a quick decision, Bible reached up to unzip his jacket, relying on the brief survival courses he’d received in training. He certainly had body heat to offer which Don seemed to have a complete lack of at the moment. And before the cold could sap any of the warmth of his body away, Boyd stretched out beside their tank commander, carefully pressing up close against his back. “It’s okay.” he whispered to him when Don stirred but that was practically all, too exhausted to actually wake up, not unless an emergency made itself present and Bible had more soft words at the ready of reassurance. “Easy.” he murmured, “Easy now.”

Bible pressed as close as he could with extraordinary care to keep from waking him, wrapping an arm around his chest, until they were pressed together - every inch, from head to foot. And it was only then did Don’s body start to ease it’s violent, bone deep rattles of cold, abating into tremors.

A blanket was suddenly draped over them and Bible turned grateful eyes towards Red, the young Montana native giving him a smile and a nod. “I got more from the medic tent. They said Don ain’t the only one right now. Best keep him warm just like you’re doing.”

Bible nodded against Don’s back, pressing his palm flat against the commander’s chest. “It’s okay.” he whispered to him softly when the man twitched just slightly in response.

Wardaddy only started to ease into quiet shivering after four or five blankets were piled on top of them both and it became clear what had gone wrong - and what had gone right - when a medic came by to check up on them.

Don had gotten mostly soaked crossing the river and since it had been so near to sunset, the temperature drop had caught a lot of men off guard. Instead of focusing on himself, just like any good commander he’d paid much more attention to his crew - getting them out of their wet clothes far faster and into warmer and drier clothes. But like a commander that still had a lot to learn, he hadn’t paid any mind to himself at all. And this had been the result.

At the medic’s urging they woke Don just enough to rub some warmth into his body. Red worked on his legs and Gordo his arms and Don was barely awake but looked overwhelmed by their concern and care. Bible stayed glued to his back, quietly reassuring him that it was nothing he wouldn’t do for them. And Red and Gordo had readily agreed.

Don had exhausted himself today on their account, something he’d continue to do in the future but much more smartly, and Bible felt a protective urge to be right there in the case he ever needed him again. To be that one person that could.

And Bible learned gradually over the years as the war pushed north into Europe and then east into Germany and into colder climes and through gradually harsher winters that Don did not take the cold well. He’d bare it, deal with it, set his teeth and not utter a single complaint. That’s what he did. But in the morning, after a particularly cold night, he could be a serious son of a bitch. Not exactly taking it out on them, but no mind to letting the world know, the army, and his crew that he was not having whatever the day was going to bring. And it was through his gradual closeness with the man that turned into something far more that he naturally started to be the warmth on those nights that Don otherwise would go without. And he seldom cared if they were surrounded by the whole army.

Bible would, in a very matter of fact manner, ease in behind Don wherever he slept on those cold nights and press against his back - head to foot - and wrap an arm tightly around his chest. Lending the tank commander whatever body heat he had under whatever blankets they could afford. Usually both of theirs individually. As a result they probably slept warmer than any soldier in the whole of the war. And no one ever questioned them. And there was never any talk.

After they’d come together in all ways, intimately, Bible had at first been a little wary. The risk of being found out was just too great. But then he’d woke to a boot against his ribs, a rough hand on his shoulder, and the sound of Don’s teeth chattering and he hadn’t cared at all about the risk. And Don handled it just as matter of fact as he did. In the morning there was no awkwardness, just quiet thankfulness and gratitude. Bible was naturally giving, compassionate, and caring and he was taking care of their commander like he did for them without question or fail. That was all. And that was all that was said.

And no one even looked at them twice.

 

~FIN~ (1/6)


	2. Set Me Right Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even on the worst of days with the simplest of gestures, Bible can set Don right again. And they both never stop looking out for each other.

 

 

There were simple things Don enjoyed in life.

Sure he could get more complicated about things if he really let himself but in the middle of a war, there wasn’t really a point. Life was simple. You woke up, you ate, you killed, you followed orders, and you went to sleep. The same thing, over and over until the war ended. The first world war had been that way, when Don had been just a kid, and the second was no different. Now however there was one big difference. He had a command of his own, he had a crew to look after, and often times he was the one giving the orders. But the killing part never changed. It wouldn’t be a war without a hell of a lot of that.

Little things kept him going. If and when they managed a bit of a reprieve from the killing and the fighting and the battles, he liked to clean himself up, shave his face and enjoy a good meal. That often took form in washing up with ice cold water and ready to eat meals that couldn’t even pass as food but he took what he could. He enjoyed coffee too and Red made it better than most but even he could barely disguise what it was. Watered down black water that tasted more like ground up coal than anything resembling coffee.

Sometimes it got to him. He could take a lot, he could deal with much more, and he wasn’t one to lose his temper. But when he did he really did and he knew that. Sometimes it was happening before he could even get a grip on himself. Rarely it was at his own team and if it was, it was probably at Grady. The man seemed to provoke it out of him. Naturally he provoked it out of everyone. But when there was a willing target around the loader had no emotional sense to stop himself, even if it was his commander.

And when one thing went wrong everything seemed to go wrong, setting off a chain of events that would last well into the day and set Don into a mood he made clear he didn’t want messed with. But Grady would. Always. The loader was always there on a bad day to make one a lot worse. And in that way he was a lot like a dog. With the chain of command dented, even though Don did nothing in the way of performing just as he did everyday, Grady would naturally try and topple the order of things out of the fear that something wasn’t right. So he just had to push it over to prove his point.

He reminded Don a lot of his neighbors dog he’d grown up with in his youth.

Don had lived a more sheltered life under the stern, watchful eye of an affluent military surgeon. He’d had it better than most. They lived in a decent estate house.

The neighbor boy he befriended long ago had lived on a farm. And on that farm had been the farm’s residing sheep dog. The best one in the area. There was nothing he couldn’t herd, round up, or put right. But if the herder slacked or showed any weakness at all the first thing that dog would do was lay into the person holding the leash.

Grady was a lot like that.

And today was turning out to be one of those bad days.

The morning had started off with gunfire. By the time they’d sorted everything out and by ‘sorted’ - killed at least fifteen Nazis - Don’s hands had been shaking so bad he hadn’t been able to hold a coffee cup. He blamed the lack of sleep. He blamed the cold settling into his bones. He blamed the lack of strong coffee. And he blamed the almost complete lack of cigarettes. So he’d held his hands into fists for awhile and slowly descended into a dark kind or irritability that he was accustomed to lasting awhile. Or at least until he was too exhausted to care either way. Usually that happened by the end of that day.

Gordo was running a temperature of ninety-nine six, which out here wasn’t anything to write home about, but Don could see he was getting sick by something. Probably from sheer exhaustion and overwork but while Don had tried to get his crew some amount of rest, seeing to them the best he was able under the strenuous orders they frequently put themselves in, not a lot of reprieve was coming in from up top. And while he wasn’t a man to ask for it, when it came to working the crew he worked so hard to keep alive day in and out into the ground, he got a bit angry.

So by noon there was no cigarettes, there had been no coffee, there had been very little food - of which Don had passed up his share so that his crew could eat instead. It was steadily getting colder, his driver was steadily getting more delirious as his fever peaked but he could drive the Fury in a straight line so no medic saw fit to pull him out and no medic could. Bible and Grady were bickering at each other and it was near to coming physical and Don was feeling completely overworked. So by half past one, when Don finally booted Grady firmly in the shoulder with probably more force than he’d usually and yelled at both him and Bible to quiet down, Grady decided to have at him instead.

The sympathetic look he got from the tank commander in front of him did little to assuage his anger. Though it was appreciated. They’d saddled him with Grady years ago because no one else had wanted him. At the time, Don had almost been run over by his abrasiveness and his extreme lack of disrespect. But it had given him a stronger backbone as a result. A certain military captain had certainly known what they were doing putting the loader in the Fury crew under his command. And Don was grateful. But sometimes he really disliked the guy. Like now. When Grady was at his worst.

“-always kicking me and never listening to what I say! It’s all your fucking fault! I swear to fucking God Don-!”

“Hey!” Bible shouted at him over his continued rant. “I swear to God himself I’m going to shoot you in your sorry, pathetic excuse for a face if you take His name in vain one more time you stupid son of a bitch-”

And that was about when Grady tackled Bible with an angry yell and sent them both falling off tank and crashing to the ground amgonst more angry shouts and curses.

Don got to the ground almost before they did, yelling at Gordo to stop the Fury. The man didn’t but the man nicknamed Wardaddy had his hands too full to do anything about it. And Grady was about to get reminded again why they called him what they did. Because he felt like sometimes he had to parent a bunch of five year old children with rifles, bullets, and tanks. And Grady could be the worst of them all.

Before he even landed a solid hit on Bible Don had a solid fist of Grady’s jacket and was pulling him off, and there would be of been a wrath directed from God himself if he ever managed some of the physical anger he directed at the man least deserving in Fury - not just because Bible and him were intimate for them and them alone to know. But Bible was the best gunner in the 9th Division and Don didn’t take too kindly to any violence or harm coming to him.

The punch Grady threw at him was expected but the ground was uneven at best and Don didn’t get out of the way in time, taking a strong glancing blow to his face. And Grady could definitely throw a mean punch when he was stupid with anger. At this stage in the war though Don had fared much worse pain and he barely stumbled under the assault. Instead he grabbed Grady, pulled him forward, and drove a knee right into his stomach with as much force as he dared. And when the man doubled over in pain Don dragged him away from the line of tanks, shoving him to the dirt. “Are you done?” he asked.

“Fuck you!” Grady spat, “I ain’t fuckin’ done you son of a bitch-!”

“Bible get me those ropes.” Don said, calling over to him, pushing Grady back to the ground with a boot when he angrily tried to come after him again.

The gunner still looked shaken from Grady’s outburst and unsure of the reason why he wanted the ropes but he did as he was told. “You see?” Don asked Grady. “He does what he’s fucking told.” he emphasized the point with an angry nudge of his boot against his shoulder. “Now you do what you’re told and stay the fuck where you are.”

Grady didn’t listen and this time he actually managed to get up enough to take another swing at him. He was angry enough that blocking it sent Don’s foot back just enough for Grady to push him to the ground. The air left Don’s lungs as he hit the hard ground and back impacted with the ground, Grady going with him with an angry yell. So Don wasn’t kind when, on his back as he was and facing an angry man straddling his waist and ready to lay into his face with his fists, he punched Grady hard with his knuckles enough to send the man reeling. He didn’t hold back this time and it was enough, just enough, for him to gain the upper hand and push the man off of him and regain his feet. Grady didn’t at first.

Spitting blood into the mud, Don glanced over at Bible as he quietly handed him over the thick ropes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Bible mumbled.

Don quickly set on Grady before he could get up, managing to tie his feet together like a roped steer before the man started struggling again. Pressing a knee into his back and leaning all his weight into him, Don smacked him on the back of the head hard enough to get his attention. “More you struggle the worse this’ll be!” and then he tied his hands around his back, tight enough that it might just be painful but only just enough to get his attention, leaving him hapless and tied up on the ground for all the tank crews and soldiers to see.

“Son of a bitch-” Grady groaned into the dirt but it was far less heated.

Bible wordlessly held out a cigarette to him, and when he’d left and come back Don wasn’t sure. Probably somewhere between tying up Grady’s legs and his hands. “Sergeant Phillips said to give you this, sir.”

Pleasantly surprised there seemed to be some left, and grateful for it, he took the cigarette from him and found Phillips with his eyes. The tank commander gave him a salute and Don returned it with a nod of his head, leaning forward as Bible held out a lighter to light it for him. Briefly his eyes caught Bible’s and though the man didn’t hold his gaze, he was happy to see just a bit of a smile on his lips. Letting him know he was all right without saying it. But Don had to ask, just to be sure, reaching out and patting him affectionately on the side of his face and with somewhat rougher hands made him turn a bit. “You all right?” he asked.

“I’m all right.”

“Good.” Don said, holding out the cigarette for Bible to take a drag from.

And while he did, Don turned to Grady. “You done?” he asked again, nudging him in the ribs with his boot. Almost affectionately. Grady was such an exhausting piece of work.

Grady for a second said nothing but the miserably embarrassed expression on his face was a start and Don kicked him a bit more firmly.

“Are you done?” he asked, far more loudly.

“Yes!”

“Yes what?” Don asked, reaching down to cuff him with a gloved hand over his head.

“Yes, sir!”

“Apologize to Bible.” Don said, satisfied, accepting the cigarette the man in question passed back to him and taking a deep, relieved drag of it.

“I’m sorry.” Grady said immediately and he sounded like he meant it.

Don didn’t doubt it and he swiftly moved to untie him. First his feet and then his wrists, rolling him over with a foot so that he could get a better look at him when he was finished. If anything Grady did look apologetic. Mortified and embarrassed but apologetic. Almost overwhelmed. And Don hated to do it. He didn’t take a lot of pleasure in it although there was some satisfaction in putting him back in his place after starting a practical riot. But he wasn’t sadistic. And Grady didn’t look scared of him none. Just put in his place. And sorry.

“Get up.” Don said, nodding back towards the Fury, where Gordo was watching them with fevered confusion and concern.

Grady did, climbing to his feet with slumped, defeated shoulders, trudging his way back to the Fury - avoiding the eyes of everyone upon him. Don just companionably reached up, squeezing the back of his neck and giving it a rough pat before withdrawing. “I care about all my crew Grady. If you’d stop being such a son of a bitch you may see that someday.” he said to him alone.

By the expression on his face, and Bible’s - it went understood.

Needless to say, Don’s day hadn’t gone so well. By the time they pulled into the nearest town a few hours from sunset with a fever struck Gordo, a properly disciplined Grady, a quiet Bible and Red, finally reaching an end of the supply-less trek across hostile enemy territory, he was as he usually was at the end of a long day. Too exhausted to even be angry about it anymore. Just wearily irritable at best.

“Top?” Red asked, passing him over a clipboard. “Everything check out for supply requests?”

Don glanced over it, pushing it away. “Fine.” he gave a glance over at Red, somewhat apologetically at what he knew was a dismissive tone. “It’s your job and you’re good at it.”

Red smiled, his eyes understanding when he reached out, briefly touching his shoulder before he stood to leave and pass the supply detail on. “Supper will be ready soon, sir. And it’s actually going to be something good for a change.”

Don considered the possibility, mused over it, at how much a change that would be indeed and that was about when Bible came over with a bucket of hot water and a rag that actually looked clean. “Let me see your hands.” he murmured, sitting down close beside him. The warmth of his body was welcome. And Don was wishing that they could find a room, just them, together. Like they sometimes could. Even if he was too exhausted to go where his thoughts led.

The Fury commander let the gloves be removed from his hands, not even giving a wince as wind chapped knuckles broken open by Grady’s face were exposed to cold air. “Have to wear your gloves more. It’s getting too cold to go with’em. Your up top too much.” Bible said, shifting a glance up at him, soaking the strangely white rag into the equally strange crystal clear hot water. He wasn’t used to anything being white without being tinged with pink or red. And he wasn’t used to clear water that wasn’t tinged with dirt.

Grady walked by with more water for the fire, a cooking pot, shifting apologetic and guilty eyes in his direction. He’d been giving him those looks all day and Don felt a small flicker of fondness for the man under his fatigue. He knew that Grady wasn’t dumb enough to know that Don was so hard on him because he gave a damn to try. Any other commander would put him up against military action or court martial. Dishonorable discharge even. Some of the newly minted commanders or higher up personnel were battle weary to even try or too high on a horse to give a damn.

A sudden, sharp pain in his knuckles drew his eyes away and he took in a breath to match. Painful and sharp.

“Ooh easy. Easy now.” Bible murmured, shifting closer and getting a better grip on his hand as he cleaned the blood from them both. The hot water hurt like hell but it felt exceptionally good at the same time, the presence of the man soothing in ways little else could be in this hell. Don felt a warm flicker of love and gratefulness settle in his gut.

“How’s Gordo?” Red asked Bible.

“Resting. They say his fever broke. Lucky it wasn’t more’n that.”

Don nodded. Gordo was lucky. They all were.

Bible bandaged his hands and then surprised him by coming back with more hot water and his shaving kit. But he didn’t stop him and no one even gave them secondary glances, not with how exhausted Don looked and his bandaged hands, as Bible took a seat close behind him once everything was set out and ready. They’d done this before, Bible shaving him. But privately. It was something they enjoyed but the few times in the past it had been done they’d been entirely alone. Now they were surrounded by two or three entire platoons. But Don just willed himself to relax and enjoy it. Let his second take control and set his weariness as a commander aside if even for just a short time. And more than anything enjoy the closeness of his lover. Hiding out in the open like this. Like they had too. Despite the danger. But that was just it. It was as good as hiding as any. Because no one ever thought a man like Wardaddy could be what society thought as deviant, wrong, all the words they called it. And most of all no one ever suspected a man named Bible.

Don practically dozed, sedate and relaxed under Bible’s hands with each pass of the razor. It was a different cream the man had used, something nicer, and he’d enjoyed that too as he’d smoothed it over his face with his own hands instead of a brush. There was something to be said about those hands. As reassuring, steadying, and soothing as anything on the planet could be. The supple strength, the skill behind a tank turret, even the hardened calluses. It was the knowing of his lover without seeing. It was the feeling. Like his body solid and warm behind his own, holding him up, the hand on his throat keeping his head steady.

It set him right.

After the horrible day he had it was all he needed and more to set him right again. If all he had at night was a smile from Bible and the warmth against his back as they slept that was all right too. And nothing could possibly compare to the man himself.

“Thank you.” Bible said softly later, lips practically against his ear as he wiped Don’s face dry with steady hands.

“For what?” Don asked, though he had an idea what of. He was so practically asleep against his gunner that he was asking before he realized what he was referring too however.

“Earlier.” Bible said simply and Don gave his leg a pat.

“You’re welcome.”

And with his eyes, as Bible withdrew from him, he hoped he could say silently what he couldn’t say out loud with words at the moment. Thank you.

Judging from the smile Bible returned and the look in his eyes, it was heard loud and clear.

 

 

~FIN~ (2/6)


End file.
